The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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ODE.
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
130
ODE.
[Tempora mutantur.]
The Poet describeth the former and present State of his Wishes.
Tempora mutantur.
Courtiers are just so many goats—that leap
From rock to rock, upon the cloud-capp'd steep,
That overhangs a sea that foams around;
Slip but a foot! souse! down they are, and drown'd:
Yet how folks scramble, one and all,
To mount the ridge, and get a fall!
From rock to rock, upon the cloud-capp'd steep,
That overhangs a sea that foams around;
Slip but a foot! souse! down they are, and drown'd:
Yet how folks scramble, one and all,
To mount the ridge, and get a fall!
I own'd I've listen'd to Ambition's tales,
Sigh'd for Life's mountains, and disdain'd its vales;
My youngling ears most greedy drank her story!
With kings and queens, Lord! how was I in love!
Tried to make wings (alas! I vainly strove)
Poor fly! to buzz within their orbs of glory.
Sigh'd for Life's mountains, and disdain'd its vales;
My youngling ears most greedy drank her story!
With kings and queens, Lord! how was I in love!
Tried to make wings (alas! I vainly strove)
Poor fly! to buzz within their orbs of glory.
Yes, vain were my endeavours all,
And still am I ordain'd to crawl!
Although so lofty in my rhime.
Heavens! how my fibres felt the rack,
When Pye obtain'd the royal sack,
And Parsons smooth'd the ode with chime!
And still am I ordain'd to crawl!
Although so lofty in my rhime.
Heavens! how my fibres felt the rack,
When Pye obtain'd the royal sack,
And Parsons smooth'd the ode with chime!
Thus can't I to the palace go, alack!
All the court crawlers would be on my back;
Biting and scratching, nibbling, swarming—
A circumstance, alas! alarming.
All the court crawlers would be on my back;
Biting and scratching, nibbling, swarming—
A circumstance, alas! alarming.
131
There would be Liverpool, I do suppose,
And Cardigan, and Salisb'ry, and Rose,
Making a diabolic rout:
‘Off with him—turn the fellow out!’
And Cardigan, and Salisb'ry, and Rose,
Making a diabolic rout:
‘Off with him—turn the fellow out!’
Cut off from Cæsar and his wife,
I pass of solitude a life;
To Cynthia's beauty tune the willing lyre;
And while I gain her lovely smile,
(The sweetest that adorns our isle!)
I feel for courts no more a fierce desire:
I pass of solitude a life;
To Cynthia's beauty tune the willing lyre;
And while I gain her lovely smile,
(The sweetest that adorns our isle!)
I feel for courts no more a fierce desire:
So little raptur'd with a royal mien,
I would not give one pin to kiss a queen.
I would not give one pin to kiss a queen.
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||